Three Shots for Spadefire
by Marukaite Chikyuu Doitsu
Summary: NOT JACKXCLAY DESPITE CHARACTERS. I have no better title . . WARNING; THIS IS FANFICTION OF FANFICTION, YOU WON'T UNDERSTAND UNLESS YOU KNOW SPADEFIRE'S STORIES (WHICH I HIGHLY SUGGEST). A series of fan gifts for my favorite authoress Spadefire and her OC Emma! Unconnected shots, first is angsty JackxEmma, second is ClayXEmma, and third is whatever. MERRY CHRISTMAS SPADEY! ENJOY
1. Chapter 1

MCD: If you don't know who Spadefire is, nor do you know what Xiaolin Showdown is, you're gonna have a bad time.

/brick'd

Haha yeah, but seriously~ **THIS IS A FANFICTION OF A FANFICTION. **You're going to be super confused if you haven't read any of the FF author Spadefire's stuff. *points to the search bar in the corner* Look her up, seriously! You might not like OCs or Xiaolin Showdown, but she's the shit. Seriously. I love her. Too much c: Oh! And I have a Deviantart account now- "MCDoitsu". I'm probably not gonna post my stories there, but it's got fanarts that I've made of Spadey's stuff. So ja~

LE IT BEGIN~

The first of three shots!

(Also, the first part before the flashback was done before the entire rest of the story, so sorry it's a bit detached D:)

***A Spektoral shot- made-up word- noun: A single-chapter story referring to the singer Regina Spektor***

**_1- Patron Saint- JackXEmma_**

**_(angst, romance, drama)_**

**_Italics- lyrics/past events. Italics and bold- emphasis. Normal- description/present time._**

_She's the kind of girl who'll smash herself down in the night._

_She's the kind of girl who'll fracture her mind till it's light.  
She'll break her own heart and you know she'll break your heart too.  
So darling, let go of her hand!_

There was hurt in Emma. They had all suspected that, somewhere in the O'Reiley girl- maybe deep, deep, _deep_ down, because at times, she made it look so easy, being cheerful and goofy- that there was something… _blackened. _Something she didn't like, or something that had happened. Over time, they became more acquainted with the backward-magical (and somewhat backward-minded) girl. Sometimes it was obvious, at other times, they nearly forgot. But there was a part of herself that Emma didn't like to share, didn't like to let loose- and that was where the problem began.

They had always known that Emma was strong. The swagger (and in the proper sense, not the derpy American sense, thank you very much) in her steps, the careless banter, the general aloofness- one does not simply obtain such qualities by genetics and heredity.

To put it into an appropriate phrase for our friend- behind every gleaming silver spoon and fork is a bent plastic spork.

And it was true.

(Not the spork thing, the part about Emma)

Her life had not been the easiest, as one could easily assume by the odd maturity she held hidden for one so seemingly young and goofy. The magic she cast whispered of hours upon torturous hours of studying and practice that eventually flowed from her body in quivering, excitable waves. To this day, one can easily detect the wisdom that stretched beyond her years, seeping from swirling chocolate eyes and from beneath calloused fingers. But what a person may not be able to detect is the tired mind that came with these factors.

Understandably, her heart and mind and body were worn down over time. Not in the way that she is skinny, thin, unhealthy- no, at a glance, Emma would seem perfectly normal.

It was more in the way of the internal stress one would suffer, after constantly beating themselves up, over and over and over again.

Yes, there was hurt in Emma. But there is no way, despite her telling you herself, to know if we are even scratching the surface or if we hit the nail on the head.

…

_"Goodbye Clay."_

_"Emma!?"_

_"You'll probably see me again, don't worry. I just won't be the same."_

_The sound of blades cutting the air._

_"Emma, are you ready to go yet?"_

_"__**Spicer!?**__"_

_'His voice is so loud, booming… even now he won't yell at me. The idiot…'_

_"Yeah, babe, I'm ready. I was just sayin' my last goodbyes and all that._

_"Emma, don't do this-"_

_"Shutup, Clay-!"_

_"Jack, stop."_

_Someone pivoting on their heel in the dirt, footsteps._

_A growl._

_"Emma-"_

_"Oh calm your flaming hair! I gave him a hug, it's not like I was making out with him in the rain."_

_"Emma…"_

_'Dammit, Clay, don't talk to me like that…'_

_"Sorry, buddy. I…" the sound of rushed footsteps. "Clay, let go of my hand."_

_"Emma, stay. Please! It doesn't have to be like this! Ah' didn't mean to break your heart like ah' did-"_

_"Clay. Stop. I know you didn't. But I can't be swayed now. I've made some sort of terrible mistake and the universe is kicking me where it counts for it. Now just… just let go of my hand."_

_The sound of foot steps, an agitated "finally!", fabric and skin rustling, the blades starting up again and teeth grinding inside tightly-pressed lips and hurt._

_It hurt._

_So, __**so **__much._

_And he only just realized it now._

…

…However, something tells me we have a long way to go.

_~  
She's been skipping days, spilling her drinks in the sink  
and you know, she's never coming home-never coming home again  
but when-when-when she open her eyes-eyes-eyes  
beyond the chipping paint through the windowpane _

'I should've seen it coming…'

_Emma hadn't been acting normal._

_Of course, this is normal of someone who has just been rejected by the one they love._

_But that had happened weeks ago…_

_Emma had avoided Clay after it happened, but of course, that had not worked. Clay didn't know how it happened, but somewhere in her heart, she decided that being friends with Clay would work out, just like it always had._

_However, this was not like it always had been._

_She was acting funny. Not eating an entire meal when she would usually stuff herself, emptying her drink in the sink and going to bed early. Avoiding eye contact with everyone, not just Clay, and disappearing for hours at a time into her room or off the temple grounds._

_She was anxious about something, he told himself as he observed her leave the dining room once more._

_But what?_

"Escape…" he answered his own earlier question, bitterness present in the harsh whisper._  
"What'chu talkin' 'bout Willis?" "Pssssht, don't be a worry wart~" "Clay, I'm fine!" "Clay, if you ask me again, I will grind you up into poke-food for my Charmander."_

'I should've been able to see through it…'

An image of her smiling face appeared in his head suddenly, but he couldn't see her eyes. It was as if they weren't there at all…

Anyone that knew Emma well would've-should've- been able to see it. Her eyes often, although not all the time, portrayed her emotions and thoughts.

_She avoided eye contact…_

And suddenly something made sense, he thought as he laughed dryly, still standing in the field behind the temple where she'd made her last stand as a member of the Xiaolin side.

It had become dark out… how long had he stood there? Hours? He'd assume so…

'She just… up and left…'

Like there was nothing to it.

Just grabbed onto the Heylin boy's jacket and zipped off without even a backward glance…

The usually tough warrior blinked back tears, pulling his hat down on his face to hide his upset look.  
This… _nothing _could hurt worse than this. _Nothing._

_~  
Lies lies lies  
Her patron saint, broken and lame  
and absolutely insane for learning _

_that true love exists _

_"Emma!"_

_"Hey, don't yell at me like that! It's not my fault you needed your ass whooped."_

_"But still! We're friends! At the very least, could you lighten up when your little dragon friends order you to kill me?"_

_"Jack, if I wanted to kill you, I would've turned you into a zombie and then shot you, because then I wouldn't feel guilty."_

_"…You watch too much Walking Dead."_

_"Try and stop me and I'll bite your fingers off!"_

_"HAH! Cheat codes are boss!"_

_A loud thud and a screech._

_"SCREENLOOKER!"_

_"NOOKSUCKER!"_

_"DON'T BE JELLY JUST 'COS YOU WISH YOU HAD A FLYING TANK LIKE ME!"_

_"DON'T BE A SORE LOSER JUST BECAUSE __**YOU**__ DIDN'T GET THE LAST PIECE OF PIZZA!"_

_Suddenly, a ringtone._

_~DON'T YOU WISH YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS __**HOT. LIKE. ME.**_

_A moment of pure silence, then laughter, glorious, uplifting laughter._

_"Yo."_

_"Oh, Spicer! You scared the jebus out of me- what the heck?"_

_Shuffling, of the nervous sort._

_"I-it's a flower, duh! Don't you know what to do with a flower?"_

_"...Well, I use it for magic, right? So like, I dunno… I could make the leaves attack someone or something… Heh, why's your face so red, Spice-head? Did you actually __**eat **__that chili mix I gave you?"_

_"No! J-jeez, you're so-" an annoyed sigh, more shuffling._

_"__**There.**__ Keep it in your hair now, okay? You… uh-uhm…"_

_"Spicer…?"_

_"Youlookpretty!"_

_…_

_A chuckle._

_"Subtle, Spicer, subtle."_

_Emma knew it. She could feel it. Something big, something important, and something she wanted to postpone just a __**little**__ longer._

_She sighed, pushing the thought away, putting on her brightest smile before practically skipping toward her crush, unaware of the figure that watched her, his eye makeup cracking with the way his face twitched when she handed a home-made cookie to the earth idiot._

_"…Jack…I, I can't-"_

_An angry, impatient, upset huff, visible in the cold air._

_"Look, I know you like that dumb Rock-"_

_"-Clay-"_

_"-Whatever- the Xiaolin guy. But…" the sound of a shoe scuffing the ground, the voice sounding smaller to Emma as Jack turned away from her. "…I…I'd be willing to wait."_

_"…Jack…"_

_He waved over his shoulder and stepped away, the loud crunches in the snow the only sound he left her with in the slowly-drifting flakes._

_Silence. It's uncomfortable, so much different than what they're used to in the library._

_"…Clay?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_He turned to her, watching her expressions mold themselves for a few seconds._

_"O-on second thought, nevermind…"_

_That statement leaves a little hole in his chest._

_She's been distant…_

_And now she doesn't feel she can trust him…?_

_~  
So darling, let go of her hand [x7]  
you'll be to blame for playing this game  
and learning that true love exists_

_The pain, the pain, the pain_

_Of knowing_

_Sobbing._

_That was all he heard._

_Heart-breaking, gut-wrenching sobbing._

_And sniffling._

_And hiccups._

_But mostly just sobs._

_And the source of that was in his arms._

_"J-J-Ja-" a hiccup, "Jack! H-he-"_

_"It's alright Emma. I'm right here…"_

_He had always been._

_Always on the sidelines._

_And now he was benefiting from it, if only selfishly._

_But as a bad guy, he found that he was perfectly fine with that._

_He comforted her quietly, rubbing circles in between her shoulder blades, cradling her to him so carefully while she sat in his lap._

_She trusted him in a time of weakness._

_And that felt more gratifying than almost anything._

_He would have her._

_And she would be his._

_He decided it right then, that he would not give up. That was his sole objective as they sat in a lone chair in the back of his lab in the basement of his house, her gently falling asleep from emotional stress and him already planning revenge._

_The Xiaolin bastard would __**pay **__for what he did to his little magician, and he would pay __**dearly.**_

_When she'd fallen asleep, he'd kissed her forehead and rested his chin on the crown of her head, her short, boy-cut brown hair tickling him slightly as he planned and plotted._

_That true love…_

"Spicer!"

"Greetings, Xiaolin dorks!"

Jack grinned devilishly at the sight of the monks already going into formation.

"Jack Spicer! Leave immediately or prepare for a most humiliating defeat!" Omi yelled at the floating evil genius. Instead of retorting with a rude little comment as usual, his grin only widened.

"Oh, I'm not here to start a fight, cueball."

Okay, so maybe he would use the rude comments after all.

The monks, minus the tallest, all looked around in confusion. Clay had become increasingly stiff in the presence of who he knew to be to blame for a lot of stress at the temple.

"Hasn't he told you?" Spicer asked, raising one red eyebrow in amusement. Three monks looked highly confused.

"What do you want, Jack?" Kimiko called out, eyeing him warily. Jack's grin nearly cracked his makeup.

"This is where I throw my head back and _laugh!_" and he did just that, mid-air in the dark, cold winter sky. His pure red hair was like a beacon against the gray of the sky, shaking with the excited laughter he let loose, unconstrained.

"Y-you really don't know!" He chuckled, wiping a fake tear from his eye. By now, Dojo and Master Fung had come out of the temple to see what was going on.

Jack sighed happily, enjoying the confusion he brought upon the monks.

_Exists._

"Emma is _mine._" Spicer suddenly hissed, the wicked grin on his face smothered. "Because dirt-bag over here screwed up _royally, _his would-be gal is _mine! _All mine, heart mind and all!" he scowled, glaring specifically at the cowboy, whose body had seemingly drained of all life. Only now did the monks realize that Emma had not, in fact, shown up to fight Spicer.

"I knew you were scum, Spicer, but this is low, even for you!" Kimiko screamed. Jack's expression remained stationary. Raimundo stepped forward.

"Take whatever spell you put on her _off_, and release her before I have to personally beat the crap outta you!" he scowled but Jack simply smirked, an expression full of mirth and contempt.

"You think I would do that to her? I _love _her!" and there, it was out, puffing into the cold air on a cloud of vapor and floating gently to the earth. The whirring and vibration reminded Jack that this was not, in fact, a dream, but real life. The monks stood silent, dumbfounded, as Jack's momentary silence ended and he shouted at them.

"Yeah, stare all you want, assume all you want. Assholes. Did you ever, for one moment, think that I had human emotions? That, just maybe, Emma's temporary absences were times spent hanging out with me? Nope! I'm the bad guy with no life!" he ranted and raved, although his tone stayed the eerily same temper and volume.

"Well, now you've gone and fucked up, and she's with _me _now. She'll stay with me until she gets over the emotional damage this dirt wad," he pointed at Clay, "caused her, and then she does what she wants. But until then, _she stays with __**me.**_" He announced predatorily. The monks covered their eyes as Jack took off again, the cold winter air swirling almost magically, _dangerously_.

And as they all faced eachother, Clay looking at the snow, they knew that it had all gone wrong.

**_End One_**

MCD: JESUS FUCKING RICE. THIS. _THIS. _It's finalllllyyyyy doooonnneee! *collapses*

(I know you like Regina, so I made her the first prompt~)

Just in time for Christmas too! MERRY CHRISTMAS SPADEY, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE FIRST PART~


	2. Chapter 2

MCD: I FINALLY have enough goddamn time to work on my stories! Hopefully! At least this one anyway. Winter track is a bitch, especially when you have tutoring as well :( it feels like I simply don't have time anymore (coughcoughTUMBLRDAMNYOUcough ) but yeah, hopefully I can get this all done. Wish me luck my bbs!

**2/3: Song shots based off of current favorite songs. All pairings are ClayxEmma for this one because FEEEEEEELLLLLSSSS *spasms***

**(Romance, fluff, feels that will make you go herp)**

**Unrelated drabbles! Enjoy!**

* * *

**_Frank Sinatra (George Gershwin)- I've got a crush on you_**

Emma was an energetic person- spontaneous, tomboyish, and yes, at some times rather annoying (and if you told that to her face, she'd probably grin and thank you kindly). So, as you can imagine, she'd be more into bands and singers like Regina Spektor, or Mumford & Sons, and most definitely the Beatles. She's the type of person you'd probably overhear happily chiming into Ob-la-di Ob-la-da while walking the temple grounds, or maybe in a moodier state, humming along with her Patron Saint.

So, plainly stating, she's not the type of person you'd really expect to be listening to Frank Sinatra.

But there she was, sighing dreamily and leaning her chin on the tip of her broom handle. Lazy yellow afternoon light filtered through the windows of the library, illuminating the occasional flying dust spec in the ray of almost tangible gold. The air was soft and warm, ideal temperature to slowly lull someone to sleep. Emma felt a sense of security and her eyes drooped to half-lid.

_"I'm your big and brave and handsome Romeo..._  
_How I won you, I shall never, never know..."_

Emma sighed in her dreamy state, swaying as if she were a reed in the slight evening breeze. Her feet remained rooted to the ground but her head lingered in the clouds, supported fully by the broom beneath her chin, allowing her to daze a long as she wanted.

"_It's not that you're attractive,_  
_But oh, my heart grew active,_  
_When you came into view..."_

Sinatra's smooth voice drifted, the treble a bit high, the age a bit showy, out of a small transistor radio Emma'd dug up whilst cleaning the nooks and crannies of the ancient library. She'd found it hidden behind two books on modern music, the _only _two books on modern music in the entire temple grounds, pressed tightly against the wall. Someone's dirty little secret.

Her interest captured, she'd blown the dust off the top, shook it a couple of times and messed with the dial and antennae. It didn't make a sound and she shrugged, giving up on it. She made to place it on the table in the center of the room but felt it slip- so she'd scrambled, panicking, and gripped it- and voila. She must've pressed a button in her flailing and it turned on. It was all high-pitched, kind of static-y while it tuned into a channel. She was surprised the batteries even worked after so long.

And, in a moment's time, out came the soft, soothing voice, albeit the obvious age in the quality. Emma messed with the dial, turning it up, and immediately felt soothed. Frank's voice had washed over her like a soft warm shower, left the sensation of the notes dripping down her limbs like honey. It was a wonderful feeling and she was content to set it on the table, listening to it as she worked, or at least attempted to.

She'd never been a real big fan of the oldies, but _god, _his voice was like _gold. _And it continued on smoothly from the station-wagon-dashboard wood of the transistor.

"_I've got a crush on you, sweetie pie,_  
_all the day and night-times hear me sigh,_  
_I never had the least notion,_  
_that I could fall with such emotion..."_

Emma sighed softly through her nose, feeling as though she were drifting. She and the broom swayed back and forth, but in her mind, she was being supported by a completely different item. Such item being a living, breathing human being, with a broad chest and shoulders, a flannel shirt soft from being well-worn, a bipping-boppity heartbeat attached to tan skin and beautiful blond hair and compassionate sky-blue eyes that whispered of the American Dream and vast Texan skies...

And that's just how the object of her obvious affection found her moments later, minus the narration of his modest-turned-dazzling looks. He opened the crack in the door only slightly and opened his mouth to beckon her for dinner, but seeing the content look on her face paused him. A slight smile crept unto his face, and if his heart beat seemed just a bit louder in his ears, well, he wouldn't mind not denying it.

"_The world will pardon my mush,_  
_Cause I have got a crush... my baby, on you."_

* * *

**_Summer Fiction- Throw your arms around me_**

_He broke your heart in fifteen places_

_Remember faces, but not the names_

_Right from the start_

_Your warm embraces_

_But time erases and people change_

_Come and I'll make you see_

_My darling, throw your arms around me_

Emma's arms were crossed loosely against her stomach as she leaned against the oaken door frame. Seriously, she studied Clay's compassionate face with all the consideration in the world.

Leaning up against the frame, her tank top shifted comfortably. She looked past Clay and out at the grassy field that dropped off into the distant waters of the North Atlantic. Golden afternoon sun glinted magically over the surface of the unsettled waters and tinted the green grass, making gold and green contradict itself. A breeze blew around her homey cottage, rustling the off-white curtains and tossing her side-swept bang into her face. She realized she'd need to cut it soon if it were able to bother her.

"Emma," the breeze had blown Clay's blond bangs out from in front of one of his dazzling eyes and all she could see was deep-blue honesty. That, and another emotion she didn't want to place a name to. It had been all too familiar.

Emma sighed deeply, her chest rising and falling in her thought.

"You seriously want me to consider it, don't you?" she saw doubt flicker over his face before it went back to resolute. "After all these years, after the pain you put me through. After I've finally forgotten the names of those I was closest to after they pleaded me to stay?" Her lips quirked to the side, but the action was more contemplatively stern than the happy he was hoping for. He could feel his heart slowly falling into his stomach as if it had tripped off the cliff behind him. Maybe he had made the wrong decision coming here to find her after all this time...

"Emma..."

"Funny thing is," she barreled on, "I can still remember their faces. How did I- oh yeah, I just took a regular taxi, didn't I? I hadn't expected to find one in the village but I was lucky. I can remember their faces," she reminisced, chocolate eyes hazy, "as I turned to look at them. The back window was dusty, but I can still remember the looks," she sighed, closing her eyes.

"Emma,"

"Nope, not done, Clay," she hummed and it stung him, how nonchalant she was about all of this- "all I wanted was for you to maybe return my feelings. We didn't have to be a couple, because then we could still be in love without breaking the rules, isn't that right? Or am I only remembering the hopeful thoughts?" she stared at- no, she stared straight through him and into his heart. He wanted it to stop beating. He was a damned fool, he couldn't be bothered to deny it.

"A hug would have kept me satisfied until we maybe stopped being warriors. Or was that too much to ask for? I know that most warriors become monks when they grow too old, but I guess..." she stared at him, eyes raking over him, turning his soul up and planting her questions into his very skin. "...you were always different, I guess I thought. And hell, look at us now- I was right."

_'Kill me now. Just do it. Strike your final blow, Emma.'_

"And now here we are. Look around, Clay. I've got a nice little cottage on a nice big cliff in a nice pretty field. For all you know, there could be a nice young man in my spare bedroom or even in mine, and yet you come, bearing a broken love from so many years ago, hoping I'll take you back despite everything that happened." she ended up whispering. The Irish land around them was quiet, even the rustling grass and crashing waves seemed to have muted, waiting for the finale.

Clay lowered his head, pushing his cowboy hat - he still had the damned thing although the tanned leather was worn and crinkled from use - back onto his sandy locks, allowing his bangs to fall back into place. He felt like a damned fool. Emma was so right, and even though his heart cracked and crumbled, he knew he'd hoped she wouldn't be like this, in some stupid part of his brain. He felt his eyes begin to sting.

_'Stupid, stupid, stupid...'_'

He could feel Emma stare at him in all of his upset discomfort. She scanned his slumped form for only a moment before pushing off the door frame. She pulled her shorts down a little lower on her legs before patting them, getting rid of the imaginary crinkles. With that, she stepped forward, her bare feet against warm wooden steps and then tickled by soft grasses.

"You're lucky people change, Clay, or else right now I'd probably be shootin' laser beams at you with my eyes right now," she chuckled and he looked up, completely confused. A grin wormed its way onto her face and she held out her arms, eyes lined with unshed tears.

"C'mere. I've been waiting for you and I'll be damned if I don't get at least one-" she wasn't given time to finish before Clay scooped her up, muttering unintelligible apologies and pressing his face into her stomach, twirling them around. She shrieked and clutched at his head, making his hat fall to the ground. He spun a few times before letting her slip down and he pulled her in tight, pressing his face into the crook between her neck and her shoulder. Thick arms wrapped around her stomach and she wondered when her own slim-but-muscular arms had slipped around his neck.  
"...hug," she finished, her face bright red from the momentary of excitement. She glanced at the golden strands of the boy- man, now- clinging to her and she pinched her arm behind his back. A grin slipped onto her face and she closed her eyes, pressing her face into his hair. He pulled tighter in response.

"...Emma?"  
"Hm?"  
"...can ya _really _shoot lasers from yer' eyes now?"

Emma burst into giddy, happy laughter and he pulled back to see her radiant smile, exhibiting the same expression. The sun lit both of their forms as they walked into the cottage, the young brunette magician motioning excitedly toward it with the hand that wasn't being held by the overjoyed cowboy.

* * *

**MCD: Unfortunately, that's all for this chapter. I was going to post a bit with Mumford and Sons in it, but that bit was giving me trouble and I want to get it down pat, so that'll be the last part. I hope you enjoyed it!**


End file.
